


Some Birds Fly

by reynabeth



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: (it's pretty mild but just look out), F/F, PJO Femslash MiniBang, Soulmates AU, Swearing, Warning: child abuse, reynabeth, thalia and hylla are the same age in this cos it's au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynabeth/pseuds/reynabeth
Summary: Reyna Ramìrez-Arellano lives in a world where anything you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's. Her soulmate has been trying to contact her since she was little, but she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Instead, she joins her sister on anti-soulmate marches through the city, and doesn't let a pen stray near her skin until she's sixteen.One night, everything changes. All it takes is one split-second act - whether it be romance or patricide - and her entire world is turned upside down. She and Hylla must leave their home behind for a new future in a new country.But choices have consequences, and in America, things are more difficult than they seem. In just a few days, the sisters' lives are completely changed - but is it for the better, or for the worse?





	Some Birds Fly

**Author's Note:**

> written for the pjo femslash mini bang on tumblr!! i was working with pipersgay on tumblr who drew the art  
> this is the full fic because i didn't really want to post the entire nearly 15k thing to tumblr haha anyway hope it's okay!! ive been working on this for months omfg   
> title from stanley park by aoife o'donovan

Reyna doesn't remember when she first saw the words on her arms. 

 

She's grown up with the paint smudges on her arms and face and sloppy pen doodles on her fingertips. When she was eight, it was bad drawings of people and animals. When she was twelve, it was email addresses and little smiley faces and words written in cursive. When she was fifteen, phone numbers and reminders and messages, always little messages. 

 

Sometimes, she thinks about writing back. Her English is good - she prides herself on it - so it's not like she couldn't pen out a quick note to tell her soulmate to go away, because she doesn't have any interest in meeting up, especially not with someone who's probably three thousand miles away, but something always stops her.

 

Still, some days she'll sit there, twirling a pen, contemplating whether or not to just write something, anything. This is one of these days.

 

She's closer this time than she's ever been before. The pen is millimetres away from the skin on the back of her hand, and she already knows what she's going to write. All she needs is one last boost, one last gust of wind to touch the nib down and make the first mark.

 

Oh God, she's going to do it. She's really, actually going to do it. Her breath is coming faster and her heart is racing a million miles an hour but she's actually going to do it. 

 

And then her bedroom door flies open. “Hola,” Hylla says. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me to - wait, what are you doing?”

 

Reyna drops the pen, hiding it behind her back as she turns to face her sister. “Uh, nothing. To what?”

 

Hylla eyes her suspiciously. “The march tonight. You coming or not?”

 

[A Brief Interlude To Explain The Fraught History Of Hylla Ramírez-Arellano And Soulmates]

 

Reyna’s sister has never seen a single letter appear on her skin. Since Reyna was tiny, her skin has bloomed with stains and marks and doodles, but Hylla’s remains as clear and smooth as it always has been.

 

At around the age of fourteen, Hylla gave up on the idea of having a soulmate. She gave up on a lot of things, but soulmates were arguably the most significant.

 

She packed all her thoughts and wishes and hopes about there maybe being someone out there who was right for her into a big mental suitcase and then she locked it up and threw away the metaphorical key and never thought of it again.

 

Then she started joining marches, protests against the soulmate system because not everyone has to have a soulmate and they shouldn't be confined to one person their whole life. She broke the system and the rules and she doesn't care what society thinks because she doesn't have a soulmate and she's happy. She really is.

 

Sometimes, Reyna hears her crying at night, or glimpses her struggling with a pen or a pencil, but she never says anything. She goes along to Hylla’s marches and agrees with her to the point whether she really does believe she doesn't want to talk to her soulmate. 

 

She doesn't, okay? Okay? She really doesn't. 

 

\---

 

“Sí. Yeah, I'm coming.” Reyna tosses the pen behind her and scrambles to her feet. “Lead on.” 

 

“Papi is sleeping,” Hylla says, nearly whispering. 

 

Reyna nods. They play this game every night - her father will come in, probably drunk, maybe angry, and he'll fall asleep on the couch, if they're lucky. Then they can slip out past him and get away relatively unscathed. The alternative fills Reyna with a sick dread: she would rather face her soulmate than her father when he's angry, and that probably says enough. 

 

“Lead on, then.” Reyna and Hylla tiptoe past their father, who's face down snoring into a cushion, and Hylla opens the door and lets them out. 

 

As they leave, Reyna feels the familiar prickle on her hand. She glances down to see words being inscribed on her hands. Today’s ink is bright green. 

 

It's in English: Are you there? Can I talk to you?

 

Reyna sees Hylla look down, notice the writing, and turn away. She pulls her arm into her side, hugging her chest. She can already hear the protest: a wave of sound and vibration and adrenaline. A lot of people hate the soulmate system, it seems; or else a lot of people like to protest and get drunk and give the government two middle fingers, and Reyna's not sure which she prefers the most. 

 

She and Hylla walk in silence. San Juan looks different under the setting sun: the edges of the buildings are softer, smudgier, and the sunlight is warm and lazy.

 

The shouts get closer and closer until they round a corner and spot the last few stragglers of people. Hylla squeezes Reyna’s shoulder. “You'll be alright, won't you, hermana?” 

 

“Sure. Have fun.” Reyna smiles up at her - Hylla continues to be infuriatingly tall, to the point where she towers over Reyna and always has.

 

“Meet you back at the house.” Hylla turns and sprints off into the crowd. “Oy, Miguel! Wait up!” 

 

Soon she's gone, absorbed into a mass of cheers and whoops, and Reyna sighs, staring at her feet. She's here, so she may as well have fun, but sometimes she feels inexplicably lonely. 

 

“¡Oy!” A man lurches down the street towards her. “You want a beer, guapa?” 

 

Reyna gives him the middle finger. The man sneers a little, and even though Reyna knows he's drunk, something seems to snap inside her. She is fed up of this place, sick to her back teeth and her stomach and the tips of her toes of this city and these people and this country, and she's lonely and she's bored and she's sad and most of all she's angry, angry enough to burst into flames, and all she needs now is a lighter or a match or - 

 

Or a pen. 

 

There's a pen in her back pocket. There's normally a pen on her somewhere, but right now there's one in her left back pocket and it's burning through to her skin. 

 

Hylla isn't here to interrupt her. Nobody is here to interrupt her. It feels almost dirty, to contact your soulmate at an anti-soulmate march, and her hands falter as she gets the pen out and sits down heavily on a nearby bench.

 

The message is still on her hand - Are you there? Can I talk to you? - and then, as Reyna looks, another word etches itself into her skin. Please? 

 

It's the hardest thing in the world right then, to lift the pen to her skin. The nib tingles against her hand, and her breaths are shaky and jagged. The world spins at the edges of her vision, but she presses the nib down until her skin goes white.

 

Slowly, she pulls the pen forwards, making the first mark. Somewhere, someone is feeling the sting on their hand. They'll gasp, maybe, and clutch their fingers to their chest. This gives Reyna a tiny extra confidence boost, and she writes the first proper letter.

 

And then the next and the next and the next and the next. 

 

“Hello,” she's written on her hand in smudgy black ink. Just one word. One word to change everything. 

 

Her heartbeat is so fast she can hear it in her chest, thundering away like a caged bird. There’s a prickling sensation, and then three exclamation marks appear under her message. 

 

Dizziness swamps Reyna, and she slumps back against the bench, tilting her head backwards and closing her eyes to stop the stars spinning. When she opens them again, there's another message.

 

“You're real?” More question and exclamation marks fill Reyna's hand, and she turns to her wrist to write her reply.

 

“I am.”

 

The reply comes seconds later. “What's your name? Where do you live? Male or female or something else? Why did you wait such a long time to contact me?”

 

The word 'long’ is underlined twice. Whoever it is has messy writing, all cramped together and nearly unreadable, and they write fast. 

 

“Reyna, San Juan, female,” Reyna writes, leaving the last question unanswered. This time there's a long pause before the reply, and it's two words.

 

“Annabeth Chase.”

 

“You are female?” Reyna scrawls. She's not sure why she's surprised, or why she expected it to be a man, but it seems she did. 

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

She's fierce, Reyna thinks, and suddenly she's smiling. “No tengo problema,” she writes. “American?”

 

“American,” comes the confirmation. “San Francisco. Far away.” Her soulmate - Annabeth - draws a little sad face next to it, and Reyna nearly laughs out loud. 

 

“Sometimes I make mistakes with my English - it’s not perfect,” Reyna writes, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling again. 

 

“It is to me,” Annabeth scribbles, and Reyna snorts at the cheesiness of it all. “How old are you? I'm seventeen.” 

 

“Sixteen,” Reyna replies. “Seventeen next month.” 

 

“I'm so lucky,” Annabeth writes, and then Reyna really does laugh out loud because this is far too good to be true, it really is.

 

“What are you laughing at?” comes a voice behind her.

 

Reyna jumps. “Hylla?” 

 

“What's that on your hand?” Hylla's voice is flat, expressionless.

 

“My - my hand?” Reyna shoves her hand into her pocket. “Nothing. There's nothing there. Are we going?” 

 

“Unless you want to stay?” Hylla tugs on a strand of hair. Unlike Reyna, who insists on keeping her hair long enough to brush against the small of her back, Hylla's is short and spiky - she cuts it herself with the kitchen scissors - and a shade or two lighter than Reyna's. When their father is in a good mood, he’ll tell them it looks like how his used to be. 

 

“No, let's go.” Reyna stands, tucking the pen back into her pocket. “Why so soon?”

 

Hylla shrugs. “Miguel and I had a fight.”

 

Miguel is Hylla's on-again-off-again boyfriend. He doesn't believe in the soulmate system either, and he and Hylla have been breaking up and getting back together for nearly two years. Reyna isn't too bothered about this latest development. It'll blow over soon; always does. 

 

“It's okay,” Reyna says, squeezing Hylla's hand. “You'll patch things up soon enough.” 

 

“Yeah, but this is different,” Hylla whines, pulling Reyna along by the hand. “I don't think he likes me anymore.” 

 

“Hylla. That boy is crazy about you. Come off it.” 

 

Hylla laughs, resting her head against Reyna's as they walk. “What are you, my mom?” 

 

There's a moment of silence. Reyna and Hylla's mom left when Hylla was born, and then returned a couple of years later, which was how Reyna was conceived. After Reyna was born, she left again - snuck out of the hospital whilst Reyna's father was dozing in a chair, leaving him with a baby and a toddler. At first, he'd been a good dad, but as they started to get older, something went wrong. No-one knows where their mom is, and Reyna doesn't think she wants to know.

 

“You know it,” Reyna says, breaking the silence.

 

Hylla laughs again, and it ends in a sigh. She looks into the distance almost wistfully, and then says, “Gelato and Co.?”

 

“Oh, you're on.” Gelato & Co. is, in Reyna's opinion, the best gelato place this side of Italy. It's always swarming with tourists, and if they spare a coin to help two little native sisters, then so what? 

 

Reyna races Hylla to the store. Hylla streaks ahead, laughing, strands of hair flying around her head. Reyna follows, her feet slapping against the stones, cold air tearing in and out of her lungs. She skids to a stop outside the store, crashing into Hylla, who's bent over with her elbows resting on her knees. “I win again!” Hylla gasps.

 

“I'll beat you one day.”

 

“Sure you will.” Hylla pushes open the door and they head through the nearly-empty store to the counter. As Reyna orders her favourite - pistachio - she feels a familiar pickling.

 

“You still there?” Annabeth writes. Reyna pulls her sleeve down over her hand. 

 

Hylla chats amicably as they wander out and along the street home. Guilt tugs and turns inside Reyna, chewing on her insides.

 

Hopefully, her father will still be asleep when they get back, and she can contact Annabeth again.

 

[Julian Ramírez-Arellano: A Picture In Regrets] 

Julian Ramìrez-Arellano no longer has a soulmate.

 

He used to, oh, he used to. Her name was Bellona, after the goddess, and she was the most beautiful woman he has and will ever meet. She had long, long black hair, and she used to twist it round her finger when she was nervous or flirtatious or bored. She had the body of a gymnast, and she used to write little messages to him on the small of her back where he couldn't reach: scribbly hearts or to-dos or something to make him blush. Everyone else thought she was stony and serious, but he knew what she was like really, and loved her more than anything.

 

But then came war, and then came Hylla, and then came fighting and apologies and tears and breaking and shattering and then she left him for another country and another future, one without him. 

 

The ghosts crowded in around him, and he buckled into them, fading and fading. Hylla kept him going - she looked like him, had his burnished skin and hair and charmingly white teeth - and he would still take her to pre-school and run her a bath and read her a story at night. 

 

And then she returned, filled with promises and tearful apologies and incoherent explanations. A year, she stayed, and that year was one of the brightest of his life. He didn't see the ghosts for all the time she was there, until one day he returned from the grocery store and saw a civil war general waiting for him in the porch.

 

He still remembers the stain the milk made as it spread across the road from where he dropped it.

 

She left again, and again she left him a baby. Reyna, this one was called, and she looked just like her. The ghosts pressed in, even worse than before, until something broke and something changed and he wasn't quite the same anymore.

 

Memories weigh heavy; and on Julian, they weigh the heaviest of all.

 

\---

 

Her father lumbers in from the living room. Reyna hears his footsteps before she sees him, and adrenaline spikes in the pit of her stomach at the sound. 

 

Hylla says she remembers when their father was beautiful. But the years have changed him, and regret and meanness have made him stiff and furious and ugly, so ugly. 

 

“Why,” he says, and his words are slurred, which isn't a good sign, “are you back so late?” 

 

“No reason, father,” Hylla answers - always the first to speak up, always there to jump in with an explanation. “No reason at all.” 

 

“Ridiculous!” Julian slams his fist down on the table, and Reyna jumps. A cup, dangerously near the edge of the table, judders and shakes. “Rid-ic-u-lous!” 

 

“Father, please,” Reyna says firmly. “I'm tired. We're all tired. We need to go to bed. Maybe we can talk about it in the morning.” 

 

Her father lurches and sways, and it seems for a moment like he's going to obey, but then he looks over to the corner and his eyes go vacant. “They're watching.” 

 

“Papa. Please.”

 

“They're watching! They're watching you!” Julian shouts, his face flushing and his breathing thickening. “Reyna, Reyna, Reyna. You look so much like your mother. You could almost be her.” He takes hold of her arm, and she pulls it back. 

 

“Don't touch me!” Reyna knows she shouldn't, knows she should be diplomatic and tactful, but that has never been her forté. 

 

Julian makes a wheezing, sobbing sound. “What did I do wrong, girls? What did I do wrong?” 

 

“Papa. It's okay. Let's go to bed now.” Normally, Julian would allow Hylla to steer him into his room and into bed. But tonight something's different. 

 

“You're back so late. Too late!” He grows in size. “Far too late! And they're watching!” Then he raises his hand, and Hylla grabs onto it, pulling it down.

 

“Papi, calm down.” 

 

Reyna shuffles backwards instinctively, and then she trips over a loose flap of carpet and falls heavily backwards, landing on her wrist with a hiss of pain. Her father doesn't even look at her. 

 

“I will not calm down!” His eyes are bloodshot. A strange sort of terror stings the inside of Reyna's veins, and she paws behind her. Her fingers come into contact with the brick edge of the fireplace, and then something cold and hard and unmistakably metal. 

 

“You need to sleep this off,” Hylla persists. “We'll talk tomorrow, father. Tomorrow, I promise.” 

 

“You sound like her,” he grunts. “Always I promise, I promise, tomorrow or next week or later, baby, I promise but never! She never did as she said - stupid bitch -” Hylla gasps, and maybe that's what does it, Reyna doesn't know, but he lashes out a fist and whether he means to or not, Reyna doesn't know either, but it hits Hylla with a sickening crunch and she falls, almost gracefully, back and hits the floor and she's lying so still, not moving, maybe not even breathing, and Reyna can't stop, can't think, can only act - 

 

In one fluid movement, she jumps to her feet, bringing the fire poker up and over her head. She swings it back and then forwards, as hard as she can, and it slams into the back of her father's head. 

 

He drops. 

 

He drops like a stone. For a man so heavy, he seems to weigh nothing at all. He drops, and he falls, and he lands half on the carpet half on the flagstones under the table. 

 

Reyna almost doesn't care. She runs to Hylla and touches a shaking hand to her cheek, and Hylla opens her eyes and coughs a little. “Oh, thank God,” Reyna gasps, wrapping her arms around Hylla and burying her face in her shoulder. “You're okay. Thank God, you're okay.” 

 

“Hey. It's alright.” Hylla sits up unsteadily, stroking Reyna's hair. “What happened to - what happened to Father?” 

 

“I hit him,” Reyna wheezes. “With the poker. And he fell. I just wanted you to be okay.” 

 

Hylla doesn't reply. She disentangles herself from Reyna, who rocks back on her heels, confused. “Reyna,” she says. “Reyna?” 

 

“W - what?” 

 

Hylla reaches to their father’s side and presses her fingers to the inside of his wrist. “Reyna, he isn't breathing. I can't find his pulse.” She looks up, surprisingly calm. “What do I do?” 

 

“No.” Reyna's lungs stop working. So does her heart. “He can't - he's not. He. Is. Not.” 

 

“We need an ambulance,” Hylla says. “Police. Some help. Get the neighbours -”

 

Reyna barely makes it outside before she throws up. 

 

“Reyna, come on, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident.” Hylla touches her shoulder soothingly. 

 

“I killed him,” Reyna keens, sinking back against Hylla. “Hylla, I killed him.” 

 

“It was an accident,” Hylla repeats. “Just an accident.” 

 

Reyna looks down and sees the green writing on her hand. There's a gelato smudge on her sleeve. It feels like that was years ago. Lifetimes. 

 

Hylla takes her hand and holds her up. Reyna leans against her heavily, and together they stumble down the street towards the police station. 

 

\---

 

Julian Ramìrez-Arellano is dead. He has been killed by memories and ghosts of promises and his own daughter with a fire poker, and that seems like the saddest thing of all. 

 

He is dead and he is gone. Reyna is free. 

 

She spends the first few hours of her freedom sitting on a hard plastic chairs. Hylla has to be treated for a mild concussion, and they both have to be treated for shock. 

 

A policewoman comes to talk to them both about what happens next. She introduces herself as Rosa Santiago and asks if they would rather speak in Spanish or English, and Reyna immediately likes her. 

 

“Let me start by saying I am terribly sorry about what's happened tonight,” Rosa said, shuffling some papers awkwardly. “I know some of the questions I'm about to ask you might be difficult, but it's very important to answer as truthfully as you can.” 

 

Reyna nods. She's not sure she wants to speak. Then she does. “Couldn't we do this with Hylla here?”

 

“I need to talk to you and your sister separately,” Rosa says apologetically. “Can you tell me in your own words what happened to your father?” 

 

Reyna explains about his anger and how sometimes he lost control of himself. She tells the policewoman everything about the night, from the protest to Annabeth to gelato to coming home, and how furious Julian was. “I just wanted to protect Hylla,” she says hopelessly. “I thought he'd killed her. I hit him with a poker - I didn't mean to kill him, I was just scared and I wanted him to stop. But then he fell and he hit his head again on the floor and, well, he didn't get up.”

 

Rosa stares at her without speaking for a very long time. Eventually, she says, “Reyna, where's your mother?” 

 

“In America,” Reyna says, scrubbing tiredness from her eyes. “I don't know where. Papi has - had - her address, but I never saw it.” 

 

“Okay. I think, Reyna - I think, I don't know for certain - I think you may be able to live with your mother now.” 

 

Reyna feels prickly inside. “Really?” 

 

“Maybe. There's lots of complicated legal things I would have to sort out first. But I think it's highly likely everything will be okay.” 

 

If she was a crier, Reyna would cry. Instead, she stares at the writing on her hand and twists a lock of her hair around her finger. “Thank you.” 

 

The next few hours pass in a blur of harsh lighting and more questions and exhaustion. Rosa finishes talking to Reyna and questions Hylla, and then the hospital finally discharges them and Rosa books them into a hotel. 

 

“I'll be sleeping next door,” she promises. “And tomorrow, we can go and get your things. In the meantime, get some rest.” 

 

“Gracías,” Hylla says, smiling exhaustedly. “You've been so much help. I speak for both myself and my sister when I say we're incredibly grateful for everything you're doing for us.” 

 

“Denada.” Rosa looks at them for several seconds, and then she steps forward and pulls them both into a hug. Reyna stiffens and then relaxes against her. “You know, I have a daughter, just a little younger than you, Reyna. I can't imagine how awful it would be if it was her in your position.”

 

“Gracías,” Hylla repeats. Reyna doesn't say anything.

 

Rosa bids them goodnight and Reyna slumps onto one of the beds and falls asleep as soon as her eyes close. She dreams of green ink and cramped handwriting and pokers and strip lighting and then she dreams of nothing, nothing at all. 

 

\---

 

The dress is too tight. Reyna never wears dresses, and this one is too tight and scratchy.

 

She adjusts the black skirt and hitches up the bodice in the mirror, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Forcing an earring through a closed-up piercing, she steps back, rubbing a hand over her face.

 

In the mirror, she watches Hylla look over and then come up behind her. “Hola,” Reyna says to Hylla's reflection.

 

Hylla squeezes her arm. “Want me to do your hair?” 

 

Reyna nods, and Hylla silently begins to tug the curls on Reyna's scalp. The atmosphere in the room is sombre, all grey clouds and hushed voices and cold air. Today is the day she has to say goodbye to their father forever, and Reyna feels like her insides have been peppered with papercuts.

 

Hylla expertly ties off Reyna's hair. “Ready, hermana?” 

 

Reyna nods, turning away from the mirror. She wishes she could step through the glass, like the girl in the book Hylla read her in second grade, into a world where the twist in her hair is for a date and the lines creased into Hylla's forehead are from smiling and sunlight spilling in through the window isn't tinged with grey.

 

But she is here, and she is now, and she has to go to her father's funeral before leaving behind everything she's ever known for San Francisco and a mother who she hasn't seen for years.

 

She hesitates for a second, and then nods. “Ready.” 

 

Hylla takes her hand, and they step out of the hotel room together, just them against the world. Together, for the last time in a long time.

 

At the church, a small crowd of people have already gathered. Some of them, Reyna recognises. Others, she doesn't.

 

Her father has - had - no family except them, so everyone there are friends. Miguel shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot near the church door; their regular waitress from Gelato & Co. bustles over to give them a perfumed hug; a man she used to see when walking to school pats Hylla on the head distantly. Everyone is so full of how awful it must be and how sorry they are, poor poor girls to lose their father so young, it must be such a tragedy -

 

If this is a tragedy, should she not be upset?

 

They take a seat in the front pew. Hylla sits next to Miguel, leaning on him like she can't hold herself up, which maybe she can't. Reyna takes her hand and squeezes it tight. 

 

The service begins.

 

Reyna stares at her hand. There's a small cut on the knuckle of her ring finger, and it's starting to scab over. Absently, she picks at it. 

 

Her hand prickles, almost unnoticeably, and purple writing blossoms over the skin. “Where are you? I thought we were cool, now? I haven't heard from you in days.” Then, a few moments later, “Are you alright?”

 

Annabeth underlines it several times. Reyna quickly rubs at the writing, smudging it until it's no longer legible. When she gets home, she'll write a reply. She swears she will.

 

For some reason, she offered to speak at the funeral, and she realises it must be her turn to talk as heads swivel in her direction. “Good luck,” Hylla murmurs, squeezing Reyna’s hand as she stands up shakily, crumpling the paper with her notes on in one hand.

 

There seem to be a lot more people in the church from the front than there were from the back. Reyna doesn't normally mind public speaking, but this is different.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” she says. Her voice comes out hoarse, and she clears her throat before continuing. “I think my father would be happy to see he had some of his closest friends here today.”

 

The lies spill off her tongue like honey. She speaks of her father’s bravery and his strength and his determination like they're all good things. And the worst thing is it would be okay if people believed her, but they don't. No one does, and they all know it.

When Reyna returns to her seat, Hylla smiles at her. Reyna smiles back waveringly, but she doesn't smile properly until they leave the graveyard entirely. 

 

Hylla and Miguel walk a few paces ahead, arguing about something. Reyna trails behind, not listening to them. “Miguel, do you have any idea how hard this has been on my sister?” Hylla says in a harsh whisper, and Reyna starts to listen.

 

“Hylla, baby, don't get mad -”

 

“I’m not mad! Just - it's been hard on our whole family, Miguel. And I think we need a break.”

 

“Pssh. If you insist.” He fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. “See you later, if you change your mind.”

 

“Mm. Right.” Hylla crosses her arms, falling back to join Reyna. “Were you listening to all that?”

 

“Some,” Reyna admits. “I can't believe we're leaving tomorrow.”

 

“I know.” Hylla rubs Reyna's arm comfortingly. “Gelato? For old time’s sake?”

 

“You're on.”

 

Rosa Santiago pays for them to stay in the hotel for several more nights. She looks after them - brings Reyna food from the local supermarket when she forgets to get out of bed one morning, and buys Hylla a new jacket. 

 

One morning, after a few days, she comes in with a thick white envelope. “Good news, girls,” she says, opening the envelope. Two tickets fall out into her hand. “We found your mother’s address. You're going to live in America!”

 

Reyna feels a sudden bubble of excitement swell up inside of her. “Really?”

 

“Oh, yes. The flights are on Wednesday. I'll take you to the airport, and your mother will meet you on the other end.”

 

“Have you contacted her?” Hylla says, suddenly sounding desperate. 

 

“We have. She said she's perfectly happy to have you, and is in fact overjoyed to be able to see you again,” Rosa says, smiling. “Isn't it brilliant?”

 

She's the one who left us, Reyna thinks, but out loud, she says, “Yes. Brilliant.”

 

“You'll have to meet with more people like me in America, of course,” Rosa says. “People who'll want to check that everything’s okay. But I'm sure it'll be fine - and you'll have plenty of time to settle in.”

 

“What about school, for Reyna?” Hylla says.

 

“We should be able to sort something out, for fall,” Rosa says. “But obviously you'll have the summer to settle in.”

 

“Right,” Reyna says. “That's good.”

 

“Oh, girls,” Rosa says. “You've been coping with this so well. I hope you flourish in America.”

 

“I hope so, too,” Hylla says, and Reyna doesn't say anything at all. 

\---

The seatbelt light goes off, and Reyna immediately unclips her belt. Hylla opens her eyes, looking faintly green. “Is it over yet?” 

 

“Sí,” Reyna says, grabbing their hand luggage. “Come on, Hylla. We're here! We're really in America! Aren't you even the tiniest bit excited?” 

 

Hylla cracks a reluctant smile. “Okay, a tiny bit. Now remember,” she adds, getting up, “let me do most of the talking, since my English is better.” 

 

“Thanks a lot,” Reyna grumbles, but with no real menace behind her words because they're here! They're really in America! And Reyna is definitely more than the tiniest bit excited, because not only is she now in America, she's also going to see her mother for the first time. 

 

It's nice to stretch her legs after the flight. As they wait for the people around them to get off the plane, Reyna flexes her leg muscles and cracks her neck, which makes Hylla wince. “Come on, come on,” she mutters nervously, tapping her foot against the floor of the plane.

 

Finally, there's a gap in the flow of Americans and Reyna elbows her way out, clutching her bag to her chest, Hylla following behind. She pauses in the doorway of the plane. 

 

“Ready?” Hylla says from behind her. 

 

Reyna inhales deeply through her nose, then she nods once and steps off the plane and onto American soil.

 

The first thing she notices is the warmth. The air conditioning on the plane had been cold, and blowing into her face the whole way. Now sunlight splashes against her skin, and it warms her inside and outside. 

 

Hylla slings an arm round her. “Passports?” 

 

Reyna holds them up. They don't move, however, just stand there staring up into the sky. It feels bittersweet - a warm, sunlit America all over her and then Puerto Rico the sourness on the back of her tongue. She has escaped her father, but she has left her city, and that feels less like an escape and more like a tearful goodbye. 

 

A voice interrupts their moment. American - twangy and warm and a little growly. “Ladies, I'm afraid I'm goin’ to need to hurry you along.” 

 

Reyna opens her eyes and sees a tall man in a blue uniform standing in front of them - some kind of security guard. He has a long, droopy moustache that sways slightly in the wind, and Reyna is almost mesmerised by it. “Lo - I mean, sorry, sir,” she says. “We’re new here. Could you please tell us where to go?” 

 

Hylla glares at her - a glare that says, Hey, I was meant to do the talking. We're American now, remember? The security guard doesn't notice, and reels off a list of instructions that make Reyna's head spin. Hylla nods and smiles and interjects yes and thank you into the conversation every so often, so Reyna leaves her to sort it out, and instead examines the airport.

 

It's somehow busier than she expected, and a whole lot more American. She's just mulling this over when Hylla grabs her hand and pulls her into the cool air-conditioned building.

 

“It's big,” she says, in English.

 

“Very. And we've only seen one tiny part of it.” Hylla leads her forwards. “The guard said to go here first. You can hold the passports.” 

 

“Thank you very much,” Reyna mutters, but she isn't angry. Soon, she'll see her mother, and her new home and life and future will stretch out before her and she's so excited but also a little scared.

 

It takes them several hours to get to the other side of the airport. Reyna does as she's been told and lets Hylla do all the talking, even though their English is practically the same. Reyna's pretty sure she could handle talking to some guards, since she's been learning it for twelve years, but when Hylla gets like this, it's best just to let her get on with it. 

 

And then they're out, past all the checks. Reyna has her luggage - not that there's much of it - and she has a picture of her mother and the passports in a waterproof sealed bag. 

 

“We've made it,” Hylla says. “Do you think we should go to the toilet before we meet Mom?” 

 

It's such a ridiculously normal thing to say in such ridiculously abnormal circumstances that Reyna bursts out laughing and then Hylla does too. 

 

“Hylla?” Reyna says, when they've stopped laughing. “I'm scared.” 

 

“Me too, hermana,” Hylla says, and Reyna thinks it might be the last Spanish she hears for a while. “But we have to do this. Mom is probably waiting for us.” 

 

Reyna takes Hylla's hand and they walk forwards, and then round a corner and Reyna's vision tunnels and she thinks she might faint, actually pass out, in the middle of the airport which would be a great start to her new life, because - because -

 

Because there's their mom. 

 

Hylla makes a strangled gasping noise and drops her bag. Reyna feels dizzy. She wishes she could talk to Annabeth. 

 

“Mom?” Hylla says.

 

“Girls!” Bellona jogs towards them, her heels clacking on the floor. Reyna takes a step back, a sick feeling souring the back of her throat.

 

“Oh, my girls.” Bellona reaches Hylla first, and wraps her into a hug. “Oh, oh, my girls. I've missed you so much.” 

 

“Why did you leave, then?” Reyna croaks. She feels unstable, fragile, paper-thin, like the wind could blow right through her and she'd shatter like glass. 

 

“Reyna.” Bellona steps away from Hylla and pulls Reyna in against her chest. She smells of citrus fruits and hairspray and a horrible floral perfume that makes Reyna cough and choke. 

 

“Hello, Mom,” she says. 

 

Bellona takes a step back, resting her hands on Reyna's shoulders. “Oh, you've grown so much. You look like me.” She touches Reyna's cheek. “I always knew you would be beautiful.”

 

She's right. Reyna does look like her, from the long black hair to the sharp jawline, and it's almost unsettling. Reyna shuffles backwards, away from her mother's hands.

 

“And you, Hylla, are the spitting image of your father,” Bellona says, making a face like she's just swallowed a lemon when she mentions Julian. 

 

“Oh, Mom,” Hylla says, and she sounds more American and less Puerto Rican already.

 

“Now, girls, before we get any further, there's someone I'd like you to meet.” Bellona smiles widely, inhaling through her teeth.

 

Reyna feels her stomach drop like when she would miss a stair in their old house. “What -”

 

A man appears behind her. He's very typical Californian, with blonde hair bleached from the sun and white teeth. “Hi. I'm David.”

 

Even his accent is one hundred percent American. Reyna dislikes him immediately. He holds out his hand, and Hylla shakes it. Reyna doesn't.

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“David is my… partner,” Bellona says, wincing a little. “I hope you guys don't mind that he's staying with us?”

 

“Not at all,” Hylla says through her teeth. “How did you guys meet?” 

 

“Oh. Through work.”

 

“Work?”

 

Hylla's asking all the right questions. Reyna knows she's not - she's not saying anything at all, which is probably the wrong thing to do considering the circumstances, but the sight of this man with her mother sets her teeth and bones on edge and her fists are itching to sock him in the jaw.

 

She won't. Probably. Unless he does anything else to annoy her. 

 

“Yes, yes. We have a lot to catch up on.” 

 

“You can say that again,” Hylla says, and Bellona and David laugh and they all fall into step like natural friends. Reyna shuffles along behind, folding her arms across her chest. 

 

Then Hylla looks back. “Come on, Reyna,” she says, raising an eyebrow and jerking her chin in the direction of Bellona. 

 

“I'm coming. Just… just a lot of luggage,” Reyna says lamely. 

 

David looks round. “Here, let me help.” 

 

“Oh, it's alright -” Reyna starts, but David cuts her off.

 

“No problem, no problem.” He hauls her duffel bag into his shoulder and takes the handle of her suitcase, leaving her clutching her carry-on to her chest, feeling rather exposed. “What’ve you got in here, then?”

 

“Um. My clothes?” Reyna says, injecting as much sarcasm into the words as she can. Hylla shoots her a glare, but David just smiles infuriatingly.

 

“Sure, sure. That's cool. We have a cab waiting outside.” He hitches her duffel higher up on his broad and oh-so-manly shoulder and strides off through the crowd. 

 

David attempts to sit in the back of the cab, but Bellona mutters something in his ear and he smiles good-naturedly and sits in the front instead. Reyna ends up squashed between Bellona and Hylla, her legs pressed up to her chest.

 

“So!” Bellona says, as David instructs the driver. “Tell me everything!”

 

“Everything?” Reyna says. 

 

“Everything. I want to know all the things that I've missed, whilst I was… away.”

 

“Away,” Reyna repeats. The word tastes like metal, like when you bite your tongue by accident. 

 

“I have a boyfriend called Miguel,” Hylla blurts out quickly, breaking the sudden awkward silence that descends upon the car.

 

“You found your soulmate? That's wonderful, I really -”

 

Hylla’s face falls. “No, Mom. Not my soulmate. Just a guy I like.”

 

“Oh, well - that's great. Are you still keeping in touch with him over here?”

 

Hylla shrugs. “Don't know yet.”

 

Speaking of soulmates. Reyna can't remember the last time she talked to Annabeth. She supposes maybe she shouldn't have been so abrupt in telling her to back off a bit - Reyna’s not the best at judging emotions, but the silence she's getting from Annabeth seems to be tinged with hurt. She resolves to contact her when they reach Bellona’s mysterious house. 

 

“How much longer is it?” she asks finally.

 

“Two minutes,” David says, turning around and propping his elbow on the seat. “How about you, Reyna? Any boyfriends?”

 

Reyna imagines saying, “No, actually. A girlfriend.” She's not sure that would go down well, though, and besides - she's not sure if she can consider Annabeth a girlfriend yet. Especially not now, after she messed everything up. “No,” she says instead. “I'm not into that.”

 

“Right.” There's a pause. “Your English is very good, girls,” David says, flashing his pearly whites like he's in a Colgate commercial. 

 

“I'm fluent,” Reyna snaps, her patience worn as thin as a pulled strand of elastic. “What did you expect?” 

 

“Reyna.” Reyna expects Hylla to tell her off, but instead she sinks back in her seat, staring out the window.

 

“Now, I think we're all tired,” Bellona says quickly. “How about we get back and have a rest?”

 

“It is siesta time,” Hylla says, turning to look at Reyna. 

 

“Mm. I'm tired.” Reyna says noncommittally, mainly for Hylla’s benefit. 

 

The taxi driver pulls up at the kerb. Reyna looks up and out of the window.

 

The first thing she sees is a big green hedge. There's a hole in the hedge, and a little bird is hopping around inside. Then she opens her door and steps out, and almost falls over.

 

They're parked in front of a pair of huge iron gates, locked with a code box that glows faintly. Behind the gates, a long drive stretches on and on and on, until it reaches a massive, gorgeous cream-coloured house - more like a mansion, really. Reyna can count at least four floors just from the outside. 

 

She turns to Bellona. “You live here?”

 

Bellona nods.

 

“So all that time we were struggling away in that stupid little place in Puerto Rico, hardly surviving on Papa’s measly salary, you were rolling in it up in California?” Reyna’s tone is accusing, but she doesn't care, because she is accusing. 

 

“I would hardly call it ‘rolling in it’,” Bellona says, passing a hand over her forehead. “Please be reasonable, Reyna - this isn't just hard for you, you know -”

 

“Oh, your poor hard life,” Reyna says venomously. She opens the car door and gets out. “I think I'll walk.”

 

“I'll walk too.” Hylla scrambles over Bellona and out the open door. “See you at the top, Mom, David.” She smiles and then turns to Reyna as the gates swing open.

 

“I suppose you're going to start calling him Dad, too,” Reyna says, setting off up the long drive at a brisk pace.

 

“Reyna, I -” The car rumbles past them, temporarily cutting Hylla off. When she speaks again, it's in Spanish. “Reyna, this isn't like you. Why are you being like this?”

 

Reyna is silent. “Mom isn't like I thought,” she said eventually.

 

“She's not like I thought, either,” Hylla says, “but she's a hell of a lot better than Papa, or nothing at all. What, would you prefer to back in that tiny house with that man shouting at you every time you breathed wrong?”

 

Reyna’s silent again. “That's what I thought,” says Hylla, and with that, they reach the top of the drive.

 

“Wanna see your rooms?” David says, his arms rippling as he unloads the cases from the back of the taxi.

 

Reyna thinks about what Hylla just said, and forces a smile onto her face. “Fantastic,” she says. “I’d love to.”

 

Bellona, standing by David, looks a little surprised at Reyna's change of attitude. “Come on then, girls,” she says, and Reyna and Hylla follow her through the big double doors and into the house’s lobby.

 

It is huge. Huge is, in fact, probably an understatement. Reyna has never been in a house this big - not that she's been in many houses before.

 

Everything is weirdly quiet - probably due to all the soft furnishings. Reyna toes off her shoes, scared to track mud everywhere, and her feet sink into the plush white carpet. 

 

She takes her bag from David, not wanting him to touch it anymore. He doesn't look offended, and instead leads them up several flights of stairs until he stops outside a door. “Hylla, this will be your room, and Reyna, yours is just up there.”

 

Reyna's room turns out to be right at the end of the corridor. She steps inside, thanking David, and then slams the door in his face. 

 

Her room is big, bigger than her old room, and it has a bathroom attached, which Reyna rather likes. She drops her bag onto the big king-sized bed and takes in her surroundings.

 

The carpet is grey and soft, and the walls are cream. Her bedspread is dove grey, too, and the only colour is a golden light feature hanging from the ceiling and a rich dark brown mantelpiece and a fireplace which looks unused. Her window looks out over what must be the garden - she can see a stretch of lush green grass and a tree waving in the wind.

 

Reyna genuinely smiles, her first American smile. Her room is perfect. And now, she has privacy to talk to Annabeth.

 

She pulls a pen out of her bag and writes a greeting on her hand. “Hello,” she writes. “What is up?”

 

Annabeth writes back almost instantly. “Did you have a safe journey?”

 

“I'm in California!” Reyna adds a bunch of exclamation marks after it. 

 

“Yes! Where are you?”

 

Reyna stops dead. She doesn't even know her new address, or even street name. “Just outside San Francisco,” she writes vaguely.

 

There's a long pause before Annabeth responds. “Do you want to meet up?” 

 

“Maybe. I'm not sure,” Reyna writes. Then she stops.

 

She thinks of Hylla, crying quietly in her room over a pen. She thinks of the lights and the noise and the life of the marches. She thinks of her father, shouting every time Bellona was mentioned. All her life, she's been told soulmates are bad, soulmates are trouble, keep your skin clean and your thoughts cleaner. What she could be about to do will go against anything and everything she's been taught. She's going against her nature. 

 

Soulmates are trouble. 

 

“YES,” she writes, all block capitals. “When?”

 

“I go to boarding school outside the city, but I come back for a holiday tomorrow. Would tomorrow afternoon work?”

 

By this point, the words are stretching all the way up Reyna's arm, twisting like inky vines. She has to pull up her sleeve and turn awkwardly to respond. “Maybe we could give it an extra day? I need to settle in.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Reyna lays down on the bed. It's surprisingly soft - why that surprises Reyna in a house like this, she doesn't know - and she's just scrubbing at some of the writing to make space for more when a knock sounds at the door.

 

“Come in,” Reyna calls resignedly. It opens, and Hylla comes in, shutting it behind her. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

“Hey. What do you want?” Reyna says.

 

“I looked it up, and there's an anti-soulmate march the day after tomorrow. I wondered if you wanted to come?”

 

How ironic. Invited to an anti-soulmate march by one, and to meet her soulmate by another. “No, thank you,” Reyna says. “I need more time to settle in.”

 

“Fair enough,” Hylla says, shrugging. “I figured I'd just plunge straight in. Maybe get to know the organiser.”

 

“Who does organise it? Have you ever heard of them?” Reyna asks politely. 

 

“Yeah. You'll never guess who.”

 

“Who?”

 

“The one and only Thalia Grace!” Thalia Grace soared to fame when she organised one of the first proper American anti-soulmate marches over in New York. Hylla’s admired her as long as Reyna can remember. 

 

“Wow. You're going to meet Thalia Grace?”

 

“Well, maybe,” Hylla shrugs. “There's going to be a lot of people. But hopefully.”

 

“Cool. Have fun, I guess.” Reyna fidgets with the edge of the comforter. 

 

“Reyna?” Hylla says. “You okay?” 

 

“Just - it's been a long day. I'm exhausted.” Reyna smiles, not meeting Hylla’s eyes. 

 

“Mom said she was making dinner. Are you going to come down, or should I make you up a plate?”

 

“I’m not hungry.” Reyna lies back down, turning away from her sister. 

 

“Okay. Get some rest.” Hylla's voice softens, its usual coarse edges smoothed out. “And, Reyna?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Hylla rests a hand on Reyna's back. “You know I love you, right?”

 

“I love you too, hermana. But I'm really tired…”

 

Hylla takes the hint. “Okay.” There's more to be said, more that hangs in the air between them, but Hylla doesn't say it and neither does Reyna. 

 

The door closes behind Hylla, and Reyna flops back onto her bed with a sigh.

 

\---

 

The next day passes without event. Reyna and Annabeth talk more, making plans to meet up, David tries to be friendly to Reyna and she freezes him out, and Hylla hops around the house being annoyingly perky.

 

Reyna goes to bed feeling strangely unsatisfied, and her sleep is restless again.

 

When she wakes up, the first thing she thinks of is Annabeth. Her heart is racing already - grabbing a pen, she scribbles, “Can't wait to see you today!” on her forearm. 

 

“Same,” the reply comes, along with an address. Reyna draws a smiley face and then hauls herself out of bed, pulling on jeans and tight grey shirt before staggering into the bathroom to splash water on her face. 

 

“Hey, Reyna?” Hylla calls through the door.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I'm going out now. I won't see you until tonight.”

 

“Okay,” Reyna shouts back, rinsing her toothbrush in the sink. She hears Hylla’s footsteps recede down the stairs and, a moment later, the door shuts.

 

Reyna opens her own door, creeps across the landing, and peers into Hylla’s room. She pads over to the dresser, finding a black eye pencil, and awkwardly draws it in around her eyes. It's a bit thick, so she smudges it and it doesn't look that bad. Returning to her room, she grabs a pen and stuffs it into her back pocket, and then slips on her boots. 

 

“Bell - Mom?” she calls, thundering down the stairs.

 

“Good morning!” her mother calls. “Would you like some brunch?”

 

Honestly. Brunch? Who even says that?

 

“No thanks. I'm going out.” Reyna heads for the door.

 

“Okay.” Bellona comes in, smiling indulgently. “The gate code is star-one-five-seven-thirty three.”

 

“Star-one-five-seven-thirty three. Got it.” Reyna yanks open the door and hops out onto the gravel. “See you later. I won't be long.”

 

“See you!” Bellona echoes, waving to her as she tugs the door shut. Reyna crunches down the driveway, puts in the code, and heads out the gate. 

 

That's when she realises she doesn't know where she's going. She figures she'll just head down the street until she finds someone to ask, and sure enough, there's a newsagency not far away.

 

She goes up to the counter. “Excuse me?”

 

The worker, a lanky young white boy with nasty acne, stares at her. “Yeah?”

 

“Could you give me directions, to, uh -” Reyna recites Annabeth's address.

 

“Right.” The boy talks loudly and clearly - too loudly and too clearly, which annoys Reyna. “You need to take the first left down there - left, that's, what, iss - isski -”

“Izquierda,” Reyna says. “And yes, I know.”

 

“Okay.” The boy finishes his directions, and Reyna thanks him politely and leaves, mentally rolling her eyes. She follows his instructions until she arrives at Annabeth's street, and wanders down the sidewalk until she finds number thirty-two.

 

Annabeth's house is big, nearly as big as Bellona's, except it doesn't have a gate or a long drive. The front door is brown and weathered, and there's a handwritten note taped to it reading "Doorbell here! Please ring!" Reyna recognises Annabeth's handwriting. 

 

She follows the instructions on the note and moves aside a stray vine to reveal the doorbell. There's a funny bubbling feeling inside her, like when she'd eat too much piragua from the tourist stand on the beach, except different. Pressing one hand to her chest, she counts to three in her head, and then - blast off! - she presses the bell.

 

Reyna knows vaguely what Annabeth looks like. Tall, blonde curly hair, grey eyes, white. She tells herself she is totally and utterly prepared for this.

 

Annabeth hasn't answered the door yet. Reyna turns, looking wistfully at the street behind her. It's not too late to turn and run, which is what the adrenaline pumping round her veins really really wants her to do, but her feet are frozen.

 

The tension is almost unbearable. Reyna shifts from foot to foot, trying to ease the fluttering in her stomach. 

 

Footsteps sound inside the house, and there's a clunk of a key in the lock. A jolting feeling bursts like a firework in Reyna's veins, making her muscles go weak and her hands shaky. This is actually happening. 

 

The door handle turns, and whoever is on the other side yanks at it hard, making the hinges squeal in protest. It's stiff, but with a little grunt, the person on the other side pulls it open.

 

Annabeth.

 

Annabeth is standing there. 

 

She doesn't look exactly like Reyna imagined. Her hair is longer, and pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes are more silver, glinting a little like a coin that's been tossed into the light. She's tanned, with freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, and she wasn't lying when she said she was tall, although not as tall as Reyna.

 

Reyna processes everything in a single split-second. She's dimly aware of her rucksack slipping off her shoulder and falling to the ground with a soft thud.

 

Annabeth's lips are slightly parted in shock. She doesn't look like she's going to say anything any time soon, so Reyna does it for her. "Hello," Reyna says, her voice steadier than expected. "I'm sorry I took such a long time."

 

Annabeth opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish. She's staring at Reyna, her gaze like fire. "That's okay," she manages eventually. "You're worth the wait."

 

Reyna isn't sure how it happens but she sort of moves forward and Annabeth stumbles a little and then Reyna's hand touches Annabeth's shoulder and Annabeth's lips are just inches from Reyna's and then they're kissing.

 

Somehow, they're kissing.

 

It's not like Reyna has ever kissed anyone before, so she doesn't have anything to compare it to, but she's pretty sure this is the best kiss of all time, ever. Annabeth's lips are smooth, and she tastes a little of Chapstick, and she's soft in Reyna's arms, and Reyna's whole body sets on fire and dissolves to ash and reforms again until she's not sure she can stand up.

 

They have so many years to catch up to, so many memories to make and to miss, and if this is the first one, then it's really, really fucking good.

 

Annabeth pulls back first. “Wow. Hi. Reyna.”

 

“Annabeth. Hey. Can I come in?”

 

“Right! Of course - sorry - forgetting my manners -” Annabeth steps aside, letting Reyna come in. “Sorry. It's just a lot to - you know -” She shoves a hand through her hair, leaving sticking up. She looks ridiculously attractive.

 

“Yeah, I get it.”

 

“Your English is good,” Annabeth says awkwardly. 

 

“I get that a lot,” Reyna says. “People assume that because I'm Hispanic, I'm stupid or something. They obviously don't realise I've been learning English since I was four.”

 

“Wow. That's cool.”

 

Reyna palms the back of her neck. Everything had been going so well, but now they're both at a loss for words, and it's really, really awkward.

 

“So, uh… you want something to drink?”

 

“No, thanks. I'm fine.” Reyna steps properly into the hall at the same time as Annabeth, and they both collide.

 

“Oh, you go,” Annabeth says, laughing and ducking her head.

 

“No, no, you go.” Reyna catches herself staring at Annabeth’s lips, and ducks her head.

 

“Oh, okay.” Annabeth laughs. Reyna touches her arm, and she looks round. 

 

It's not like Reyna's ever done this before, but she's seen enough to know to wrap her arm about Annabeth's waist and pull her in. Annabeth smiles nervously, but just as Reyna tilts her head forwards, she pulls away.

 

“Reyna - I'm so sorry -”

 

“Is everything okay?” Reyna wraps her arms around herself, hurt and confused.

 

“This is so much, so soon. I think - I don't think I can - I need time to think, okay? I have to clear my head… I get this way, about things, if too much happens to me; I need to calm down, like… time-out. You know?”

 

Reyna’s heart is racing. Her hands go clammy, and she suddenly feels angry and sad and rejected all at once. “Should I go?”

 

“Oh, no -” Annabeth glances at the door. “You can stay, I don't -”

 

“Let me rephrase that. I should go.” Reyna reaches for the door, then pauses and looks back. “Thanks for… this.” She gestures vaguely around them. “It's been great. I hope we can meet again soon.”

 

“Reyna -” Annabeth sighs. She sounds exhausted, and Reyna suddenly feels bad. Then she feels exhausted, too. “Please don't take this the wrong way.”

 

“I'm not.” All the emotion drains out of Reyna's body. “You're right. We both need to process this. Talk to you later.” They both know she doesn't really mean it.

 

Reyna opens the door, steps out, and then closes it behind her. She takes a deep breath, fighting back tears, and then marches purposefully down the street. 

 

Fat grey clouds are rapidly gathering overhead. Behind Reyna, the sky is still blue, and it's still warm, but there's an ominous shadow over the road ahead. She only walks for a minute or two more before the first drizzle begins to patter down on the street around her. 

 

As she walks, the rain gets heavier and heavier. She wishes she had an umbrella, and reaches around to see if she has one her bag, before realising she forgot it at Annabeth’s.

 

“Fuck!” Reyna swears, kicking the pavement angrily. At that moment, there's a clap of thunder and the heavens open, sending a deluge of rain down on Reyna. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 

It doesn't take her long to arrive back at the Bellona-David family palace, or whatever the hell her new home is. She punches in the code Bellona used for the gates yesterday, and told her this morning, and storms up the drive. The anger bubbling inside her has built up as strong as the rainstorm, and she kicks at the gravel.

 

When she arrives at the door, she smacks her shoulder against it, and it pops open. Honestly, for rich people with a fucking code-locked gate, they really don't know much about security. 

 

Bellona rushes into the entryway. “Reyna! How was it? Where did you go?” Her face sinks when she sees Reyna's murderous expression. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Fuck you,” Reyna said. It feels so good to say it, she says it again and again and again. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

 

Bellona seems to physically recoil from Reyna's words. “Reyna! What has got into you?”

 

“Oh my God, just leave me alone.” Reyna goes to push past her, but Bellona blocks her path. Her head is spinning. She's not sure what's real and what's not anymore. 

 

"Reyna," her mom says, stepping towards her. "Calm down. Let's talk about this."

 

"I will not calm down!" Reyna retaliates, her voice rising to a shriek. She spins on her heel and yanks the door back open. Outside, it's still pouring, and a scummy wave of rainwater and leaves sloshes over the front step and soaks the doormat.

 

"You can't go back out there, Reyna - it's pouring - you need a shower, coffee, we need to talk -"

 

"Watch me," Reyna snarls. "Fucking watch me." She storms out into the downpour, turning back to face her mom. 

 

"Reyna, what has gotten into you?" Bellona steps onto the doorway, but doesn't make any move to come closer to Reyna. "I know it was a tough shift, but really - you're seventeen, you need to act like it."

 

"Act like it? I am acting like it!" Reyna shouts. She suddenly realises she's crying. What with the rain, all Hylla's black eye makeup must be smudged down her face. "These last few days, my life has been a living hell! You're some fucking - you’re not what I expected, and then there's David...! And everyone assumes I'm stupid, and Hylla doesn't understand, and my soulmate doesn't even seem interested! And have I complained? Have I locked myself in my room? Have I tried to run away? No! I fucking haven't! And you know why? You know why I haven't?" Her chest is heaving. "Because I know this is what's best for me. I know this is where I have to be to succeed. I know I have to be mature. Do you think any seventeen year old could do that? Do you think they could have made those choices? No! I think fucking not! I think they would have snapped much earlier than this. So don't tell me to act my age, because newsflash! I fucking am!"

 

Bellona is silent. Reyna is gasping, choking on sobs, the rain plastering her hair to her head in rats tails. With a low moan, she sinks to her knees and then sits down in the muddy, drenched gravel, burying her face in her hand.

 

Other than the rain, there is still silence. Then a crunching noise - like footsteps on gravel. Reyna looks up, just a tiny bit. 

 

Bellona kneels down next to Reyna. Her skirt must be getting muddy, but she doesn't seem to care. Instead, she wraps her - surprisingly strong - arms around Reyna, and pulls her close. "I don't want to be weak, Mom," Reyna says, in no more than a whisper.

 

"You're allowed to be weak," Bellona says. "Oh, Reyna. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. I promise." She rocks Reyna slightly, and Reyna presses her face into her mother's shoulder and wishes she could be free.

\---

[Intermission: What Really Happened To Hylla At The Anti-Soulmate March]

Hylla only truly feels at home amongst the marches. She knows it's sad, but since she was fifteen and she realised there wasn't anyone looking out for her, the marches have been her solace. A march was where she met Miguel - not that she's heard from him since she left, so she's assuming it's over. Strangely, she doesn't feel that upset.

 

The San Francisco monthly protest is the best protest Hylla has ever been to. It puts her passion and organising skills to shame. There are thousands of people, maybe even more, with signs and shouts and brave faces. 

 

Hylla doesn't have a sign, but she has herself, and she lets the noise wash over her until it's not part of her anymore, she's part of it. Still, she knows that if Thalia Grace is there, she'll be right at the front, and Hylla is most definitely not at the front.

 

The marches can get dangerous, and police are stationed at various points throughout the streets. If Hylla did try to push ahead, it wouldn't be impossible, but there would be more officials and more people full stop at the front. The people stretch on for a good few kilometres, she knows that, and she's a good runner, but she doesn't know her way around San Francisco yet. She needs somebody who does. 

 

There's a trendy local coffee shop a few metres ahead, and Hylla ducks inside. Thankfully, there's not a queue, and she rushes up to the hipster behind the counter. “Do you know San Francisco?” she gasps.

 

The man stares at her like she's a time-traveller, cocking an eyebrow. “Lived here all my life,” he says, reassembling his face into service mode. “Why?”

 

“I need to get to the front of the protest,” Hylla says firmly. “By foot. Could you tell me the fastest way?”

 

The hipster stares. Then he pulls a leaflet from the tray on the counter, flipping through until he finds a map with San Francisco zoo labelled on it. “I can't guarantee it'll be free of people, but if you head this way, this street sort of runs parallel to this one, so… How far forward does the protest stretch?”

 

“Two or three kilometres,” says Hylla, gripping the counter, aware that every second she spends here more people are getting in between her and her idol.

 

“If you join here, then, you'll be fairly close to the front.” He hands the map to Hylla, then turns to return the pen. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

 

Silence. By the time he's turned back round, she's gone. 

 

Hylla turns off where the hipster’s map indicates. The sidewalks are bustling with shoppers, but at least here she can walk in the road - or run, in her case. Hylla can run for miles without stopping - she practiced on the beach, and if you can run in sand you can run in anything.

 

If she closes her eyes - not that she's going to do that - or she'll end up running down a poor shopper - she can almost pretend she's back in Puerto Rico. 

 

But enough of that. Hylla's policy in life is to keep moving forwards, no matter what happens, and right now she has the feeling she is moving forward a lot. 

 

When she finally rejoins the street, she's sucked straight back into the protest. There's no sign of the front other than the increased numbers of police, but Hylla knows she must be nearly there, so she pushes through the crowd, onwards and onwards.

 

Then she hears her voice. The voice Hylla's heard so many times on fuzzy video and audio news clips. “Why should we let society control who we love? Erase the stigma around non-soulmate partnerships!” 

 

That's Thalia Grace, aka Hylla’s hero for almost her whole life. Fueled by a new determination, she shoves forwards, shouting, “Thalia! Thalia Grace!”

 

There's a small scuffle, and a burly man wraps his fist around her entire forearm. “Ma’am, this is your first warning. Please leave Miss Grace alone.”

 

“She’ll want to talk to me,” says Hylla with confidence, though she's not sure why she says it. “Trust me on this one. She’ll want to talk to me.” She winks.

 

The man grunts and pulls her to the side, away from the flow of people. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this kind of behaviour is not tolerated here. I’ll have to escort you from the -”

 

“Wait,” says Thalia Grace from behind the guard. Both Hylla and the man swivel their heads to stare at her. Thalia looks basically like the poster that Hylla had on her door when she was eighteen, except slightly taller and less airbrushed. 

 

“Ma’am,” the man says, “I was just removing this woman from -”

 

“Kindly shut up, Jonathan.” Thalia flicks a finger, and his mouth snaps closed. “I want to talk to her. Walk with me?”

 

Jonathan release Hylla, who stumbles after Thalia, slack-jawed. Thalia leads her into a DIY store, halting by the toolboxes. “Well?”

 

Hylla desperately tries to school her face into something resembling professionalism. “Right. Yes. Uh, hi. My name is Hylla Ramírez-Arellano - you won't have heard of me - I organise the San Juan protest? Um, my sister and I just moved here this weekend and you've been my hero since I was sixteen so I couldn't pass up an opportunity to see you. Uh…?”

 

“Interesting,” Thalia says. “So you don't have a soulmate?”

 

“Well, they don't contact me, I don't contact them, so I guess not - I used to have a boyfriend but we fought and I haven't heard from him so I think we're over, and I don't know why I'm telling you this but I'm slightly intimidated because I used to have a poster of you on my door?” Oh God, she needs to stop talking. 

 

To her surprise, instead of being weirded out, Thalia throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Was it the one with the blue jacket?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Christ, I hated that fucking poster.” Something about Thalia makes Hylla feel more at ease, and she starts to relax. 

 

“Oh, really?” she says.

 

“Yeah. It looked fuck-all like me. I'm all about reality, yeah? Being yourself and not pretending to be someone that you aren't, you get me?”

 

“Oh, totally. That's one of the reasons I cut my hair.” Hylla tugs on one of the strands. “It's kinda grown out now, but I used to have it cropped short. It felt like I was showing who I really was.”

 

“I like you,” Thalia says, blatantly honest. “You say you organised protests?”

 

“Sí, when I lived in Puerto Rico.” 

 

“Were you any good?” Thalia says.

 

“I was alright,” Hylla says modestly, then, “Yeah, I was pretty good.”

 

“You want a job?”

 

Hylla's vision goes white for a second. “No. Way.”

 

“Yes way. If you don't want it, that's fine, but the offer’s there -”

 

“Yes! Yes, I want the job!” Hylla smiles elatedly. “Do you have a card, or…?”

 

Thalia reaches into her back pocket. “Fuck. No, but I have a pen, so…” Her eyes search the store, presumably looking for some paper. 

 

“You can just write your number on my hand,” Hylla suggests.

 

“But - your soulmate -”

 

“I don't care,” Hylla says dismissively, too happy to care. “Here.” She sticks her hand out, and Thalia raises her eyebrows but takes it.

 

A funny electric feeling sparks in Hylla's fingertips. She realises her heart is racing, and tingles are spreading from her toes upwards. Something isn't right - isn't normal - but before she can put her finger on it, Thalia’s touched her pen to Hylla’s skin. 

 

07456, she writes. Suddenly, she winces, absently flicking her hand like there's a fly on her. Hylla glances at it - and almost passes out.

 

07456 is written on Thalia’s hand. As Hylla watches, more numbers appear - the same numbers Thalia’s writing on Hylla.

 

Hylla can't speak. She just about manages a muffled squeaking noise, and Thalia glances up, still not noticing her hand. “What? I'm not hurting you, am I?”

 

Shaking her head, Hylla takes the pen out of Thalia’s hand. Thalia's gaze doesn't dip from Hylla’s eyes as she raises the pen and presses the nib to Thalia’s face. Before either of them lose their nerve, Hylla jerks her wrist, and the pen draws a thick black line down Thalia’s cheek. 

 

There's a stinging feeling in Hylla’s own cheek. She touches it, and her fingers come away stained with ink. 

 

Thalia stares and stares and stares. “Fuck,” she manages eventually. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 

Hylla doesn't think it's possible to describe how she's feeling right now. Her whole life has been based around the idea of her not having a soulmate, and here comes Thalia Grace, trashing everything… or possibly fixing it. 

 

“Um. This is…” Hylla stops. “Somewhere up in Heaven, God is laughing at us.”

 

Thalia steps away from her. “You understand we - this - can't become anything, right?”

 

“Wait, what? No, Thalia - we’re soulmates. This is strange for me, too, but I'm not letting us be a repeat of my parents.”

 

“Do you know what people will say?” Thalia takes two deliberate steps back. “Hylla, my career is based around me not having a soulmate! I can't just drop everything from a girl who I’ve met once!”

 

“Yes, you can!” Hylla surges forward and grabs her hands. “Can't you feel it? This is meant to happen. We can't just ignore it.”

 

Thalia started to laugh. She pulls away from Hylla and sat down on the floor and laughed until her laughs turned into sobs. “It's like seeing a new colour,” Thalia says, looking up at Hylla.

 

Immediately, Hylla drops to her knees beside Thalia. “I know it feels wrong. But sometimes we have to do things, if they're right. We can deal with everything else later. Right now, there's just us.”

 

Thalia grabs Hylla by the collar and kisses her. Hylla kisses her back. Thalia’s mouth is burning and her skin is on fire and Hylla feels like she's dying. She feels like she'll die if she ever pulls away. She's never going to pull away.

 

When they finally break apart for air, Thalia keeps hold of Hylla’s collar. “I have to get back to the protest.”

 

“Right. The protest.”

 

“But, uh. If you want to talk, you know how to find me.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Thalia takes a few steps away, then a few more, then a few more. She reaches the door, and then turns around. “Oh, to hell with it.”

 

Hylla moves towards her, but Thalia's already there, taking Hylla's hands and pulling her into a much more gentle, soft kiss. Hylla feels like she's made of sand and a wave has just washed over her.

 

“Write me,” Thalia says, pulling back. “Tonight.”

 

“Yes. Right. Tonight.” Hylla gives her an awkward thumbs-up, then immediately regrets it. “Sorry, that was weak. Lame? Um, yeah.”

 

“Tonight,” Thalia repeats, ignoring Hylla's babbling. “We have to figure out what we're going to do about everything.”

 

“Okay.” Hylla nods. “Okay. Tonight.”

 

This time, Thalia makes it out of the door, leaving Hylla standing there wondering what the hell just happened. 

 

\---

 

Reyna takes a shower and lies in bed until she hears footsteps come up the stairs. Her door cracks open, and she turns towards it. "Mom?"

 

"No, it's me." Hylla doesn't remark on Reyna calling Bellona Mom. 

 

"Hylla. Hey." Reyna forces a smile. "How was the protest? Did you get to meet Thalia Grace?"

 

"About that..." Hylla perches on the end of Reyna's bed, and Reyna sits up, confused. "I have something to tell you."

 

"So do I." Reyna braces herself. "It might make you angry, but..."

 

"When I met -" Thalia says at the same time, and they both laugh. "You go first."

 

"Let's say it at the same time," Reyna suggests. "Three, two, one..."

 

"I met my soulmate!" Reyna blurts, at the same time as Hylla says, "Thalia Grace is my soulmate!"

 

"Wait, what?" Hylla says. "You met your soulmate?"

 

"She lives in San Francisco," Reyna says, suddenly fascinated by her fingernails. "Her name is Annabeth. Annabeth Chase." 

 

"Her name?" Hylla says. "So you're... you like girls?"

 

Reyna shrugs. "I like a girl. Except I messed things up, big time."

 

"Oh, Reyna." Hylla takes Reyna's hand. "What happened?"

 

"She told me she needed time and I... went off." Reyna hangs her head. "I stormed out of there and came home and - oh, Hylla. I need to make things right. What have I done?"

 

Hylla crushes Reyna into a hug. "Hermana. This is so easy to fix."

 

"It is?"

 

"Pen." Hylla holds out her hand, and Reyna passes her one. Hylla twirls the pen in the air. "You're going to write to her, right now, and tell her you're sorry for storming out."

 

"Okay." Reyna looks up. "Wait, did you say Thalia Grace is your soulmate?"

 

"Uh. Yes." 

 

"Oh. My God." Reyna grabs Hylla on either side of her face. "Hylla Ramírez-Arellano, are you telling me that on the same day, possibly the same time, we both found our soulmates and yours was the woman you've admired for years?"

 

Hylla considers it. "Yep.That pretty much sums it up."

 

"I can't believe it." Reyna claps her hands over her mouth, and then bounces up and down. "I cannot believe it. You thought - and you - you -"

 

"I know!" They fall against each other, laughing. Then Reyna goes quiet, and then Hylla does, and then the atmosphere changes.

 

"Hylla?" Reyna asks eventually.

 

"Sí?"

 

"Are you even sad about what happened to Father?"

Silence.

 

"I wish I was." Hylla's voice is heavy with regret. "When I think about it, I just feel... numb."

 

"Me, too." Reyna says.

 

"And then I feel angry. With myself, and with him. He hurt you, Reyna, he hurt us, and he doesn't deserve my tears, but I can't help but remember how it used to be, before Mom left - it makes me so angry that he did what he did, Reyna, and when I try to be sad, it just...it doesn't work."

 

"I don't think I have any anger left in me," Reyna says, and then stops. "I hated him. I hate him!" She's surprised by the vengeance in her voice. "I hate him I hate him I hate him! But - but I killed him."

 

"No, you didn't."

 

"Yes, I did. It was an accident, but... it's my fault he's dead. And that makes me... that doesn't make me any better than him."

 

"Don't say that." Hylla's voice sounds thick and choked. "Don't you dare say that." She taps Reyna's chest, where her heart is. "You're so full of love and joy and light, Reyna, even if you don't realise it, you are.I promise you are, and that a person with a heart full of love can't ever become a person like Father."

 

Reyna sits up. "A candle. No, two. We need two candles and a bit of paper."

 

"What are you -"

 

"We're going to give Father a proper funeral. A proper goodbye."

 

Hylla finds two candles in the dining room and lights them on Reyna's windowsill. Reyna finds some paper and writes her father's name on it. "Now what?" Hylla says.

 

"This." Reyna feeds the paper into the flame of her candle, and it crumbles to ash, which she catches in an outstretched palm. "Here." She tips some of the ash into Hylla's palm. "Now say goodbye."

 

"Goodbye," Hylla says dully. Reyna can't even bring herself to say the word, so instead they both open their hands and blow the ashes out of the window, where they are caught by the breeze and dance away on the wind.

 

Reyna feels empty, hollowed out inside, but also feather-like. She takes the pen, touches it to her skin, and begins to write.

 

The response comes later, when she's lying in bed. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't realise what was going on for you, and I should have handled the situation better. Can we meet up tomorrow? I want to make things right. Thanks for the second chance. A x."

 

Reyna smiles. “Okay,” she writes. “Let’s meet in town. It was too hard finding your house yesterday.”

 

Annabeth gives her directions to a park which is apparently near her house, adding “You really need a phone” on the end. Reyna gets the sense she's very relieved for the second chance, which is good, because that's how Reyna feels, too.

 

When she falls asleep, Reyna has nightmares. She dreams of the heavy thunk of the poker, of her father’s prone body, of the police station and Ms. Santiago, of his coffin and her eulogy, of the itchy black dress and the rain afterwards. Finally, she dreams of the candle flame and the ash blowing away in the wind.

 

She wakes up feeling almost refreshed. The nightmares helped, in a way, as if they were leaving her mind as she dreamt them. 

 

Clambering out of bed, she showers and dresses, sticking her head into Hylla's room on the way out. Hylla’s sitting at her dresser, twirling a pen between her fingers: when she sees Reyna, she jumps and sticks her hand behind her back, but not before Reyna notices - with immense satisfaction - the words covering her hand. “Hey,” Hylla says.

 

“I’m going to see Annabeth.”

 

“Good luck,” Hylla says, and that's really all she needs to say, because it's everything they share rolled into one - it's late nights and beach races and gelato and tears and love - and it makes Reyna want to cry.

 

“Thank you,” she says, and that's everything she needs to say too.

 

“I'm going to see Thalia later.”

 

“Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't.”

 

“Ha ha ha. Really funny.” But Hylla's smiling and so is Reyna, and with that, she closes Hylla's door and floats down the stairs.

 

“Bye!” she calls - again unusually happily - and hops over the doorstep and onto the drive, pulling the door to behind her.

 

Yesterday’s storm has blown away, and it's sunny with a little breeze. Reyna absentmindedly tugs on the end of her braid, and then sets her shoulders and heads off. 

 

She copied down the instructions Annabeth gave her onto a bit of paper before she went to sleep, and now she consults them. Annabeth has done a good job - they're succinct and clear, and Reyna manages to follow them correctly.

 

Soon, she arrives at a grassy little park which she assumes Annabeth meant. There's a kids’ playground, and children are swarming over it, shrieking and laughing. Next to it is a small expanse of grass, marked by a large gray rock. There's a bench next to the rock, and Annabeth is sitting there.

 

Reyna pushes open the gate and makes her way over to Annabeth. Annabeth looks up as she comes over, and her face breaks into a huge smile. “Reyna,” she says, jumping up. “You came.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Annabeth sits back down, patting the bench beside her. “We have to talk.”

 

“Yes,” Reyna says, sitting down, “yes, I think we do.” 

 

“I'm not the best at opening up and talking about my feelings,” Annabeth says. “I’m rather too proud for that. But - I'll go first.” She takes a deep breath, tracing patterns into the wood of the bench. “My mother died when I was a baby. And my father remarried when I was a kid. And - and I hated my new stepmother, and I still do, and… my only comfort was the thought of you out there. You never replied, but I liked that. I liked that I could say - write, rather - anything to you, and you wouldn't be able to judge me. You didn't even know who I was. And then you did reply, and it was every one of my dreams come true. Except I hadn't expected you to be a real person, if you get me. And when you were, it shocked me. I was being selfish - I expected you to be perfect and just like me - and that was stupid of me. I'm sorry.”

 

She finishes her speech and looks up at Reyna. “It's - it’s okay,” Reyna manages, and then she can't stop herself. She tells Annabeth everything. 

 

When she's done talking, it feels like a boulder has just been lifted off of her shoulders. Annabeth is looking at her with an unreadable expression: not pity, which is good, because Reyna hates pity.

 

“I’m sorry,” says Annabeth, leaning on Reyna's shoulder. “You shouldn't have had to go through all that.” She laughs wryly. “And I thought my problems were bad.”

 

“They are,” Reyna says quickly. “But I hope now you understand why I messed everything up last time.”

 

“I understand,” Annabeth says. Then, “Hey. Let's erase all the memories of that first meeting from our minds and replace them with good ones.”

 

“Okay.” Reyna sticks out a hand. “Hello. My name is Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, and I am very pleased to meet you.”

 

“Annabeth Chase.” Annabeth shakes Reyna's hand. “Now what?”

 

“Now we leave the children’s park and find somewhere a little more… private,” Reyna says, and Annabeth dissolves into laughter.

 

They leave the park and wander down the street hand in hand, and Reyna can't help but smile, because finally, she's made things right. 

 

[Epilogue: Two Years Later]

Reyna jiggles her key in the lock, shouldering the big door open and dropping her bags in the entryway. "Mom? I'm home!"

 

She steps into the house, allowing Annabeth to come in behind her. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and Bellona comes hurrying down. "Reyna! It's so good to see you." Bellona wraps her arms around Reyna, pulling her into a soft, warm hug.

 

"Oh, Annabeth, darling," Bellona says, releasing Reyna and hugging Annabeth too. "Do come through into the kitchen. David's making lunch, and he won't have heard you come in." She breezes ahead, calling, "David? David, honey, Reyna's back!"

 

Annabeth turns to Reyna, laughing. "Your mother is funny."

 

"Oh, she is," Reyna replies. At some point in the past two years, she's grown used to calling Bellona Mom and San Francisco home - even if San Juan will always have a place in her heart. "Shall we?" She offers her arm, and Annabeth takes it. 

 

"When's your sister arriving?" Annabeth asks. Hylla and Thalia now run an event-organising business in downtown San Francisco, and live in an apartment with two cats and three goldfish. 

 

"She said four-ish when I FaceTimed her yesterday," Reyna shrugs, leading Annabeth into the kitchen. 

 

"Hey, girls!" David brushes flour off his hands, turning to Reyna with outstretched arms. She barely hesitates before accepting the hug: since she left for college, she's learned to appreciate and even come to love David, as annoying as he may be. 

 

"Hey," Reyna says. Then, "Wait. Is that a ring?"

 

"Yep," says David, beaming with pride. "We were going to wait for your sister to arrive to announce this, but since you've noticed - your mother and I are engaged to be married! Isn't that exciting?"

 

Reyna gives a screech of delight and hugs her mom again, and they fall against the kitchen countertop, laughing. 

 

"Congratulations," Annabeth says, and Reyna wraps an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

 

The doorbell rings. "Oh! That must be Hylla!" Bellona hurries into the hall, Reyna and Annabeth in tow. She hasn't seen Hylla since the summer, and it's Thanksgiving now. 

 

Bellona opens the door, and Thalia Grace falls over the threshold, Hylla starts laughing. "I forgot my key," she says. "Hi, Mom." Bellona, David, Reyna and Annabeth take it in turns to hug Hylla, who bursts into happy tears when Bellona tells her about the engagement. 

 

Hylla's completely changed since San Juan too. Thalia Grace (Reyna really needs to start referring to her as just Thalia) has melted the hard outside shell Hylla had built up around herself and made her happier than Reyna can remember. She supposes she's like that with Annabeth, too. 

 

Bellona pours generous glasses of champagne, and they settle down on the patio. "So, how's med school treating you, Reyna?" Bellona asks.

 

Reyna had surprised everyone in her family - herself most of all - by deciding to train to be a doctor. The only person who hadn't been shocked by the news was Annabeth, but that doesn't count because Annabeth tends to know things about Reyna before Reyna herself. "Great, thanks," she says. "I really feel like I've found my niche, you know? I mean, I'm not the best doctor ever -"

 

"Though you will be eventually," Annabeth puts in, and Reyna smiles.

 

"- but I feel like I've found something I can do, something I really enjoy, and I've never felt that before."

 

"I totally feel like that about architecture," Annabeth says - Annabeth is majoring in architecture in a college only twenty minutes from Reyna - and there's a general chorus of assent from around the table. 

 

"I'm just so glad you're happy," Bellona says, reaching across the table to squeeze Reyna's hands. 

 

There are different types of happiness, Reyna thinks, as David goes in to get lunch and Hylla, Thalia and Annabeth begin to loudly debate which of their favourite TV shows is the best, and Bellona finds some more champagne and busies herself refilling their glasses.

 

There's the kind of happiness that's wind in your hair, sand under your feet, gelato sticky on your hands; that's noise and light and hundreds of footsteps; that's the thrill of sneaking out and the thrill of sneaking back in and that's your sister in front of you, running as you follow, bare feet on cobblestones. 

 

But there's the other kind of happiness, too, the happiness that's a table full of family members, that's laughter and jokes and hugging, that's the fizz of champagne bubbles in cold November air. It's your soon-to-be stepdad swearing at the vegetables in the kitchen, your girlfriend and sister and maybe one day sister-in-law clutching each other, dissolving into laughter, and it's your mother catching your eye and smiling. It's warm, soft, buttery, a little fuzzy, the sort of happiness that leaves your heart full to bursting. It's family, and it's love, and it's living. 

 

Reyna presses a hand to her chest. The ache that used to be there, the ache that followed her from Puerto Rico, has gone, at last, replaced by lightness.

 

Reyna laughs, almost giddy. She's finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!! you guys have been way more active lately which makes me v happy  
> once it's posted ill put a link to siobhan's artwork for the fic :)  
> thanks for reading!!


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